


theyve broken me

by Princex_N



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Red Hood (Comics), DCU, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Arguing, Bad Parenting, Brothers, Bruce Wayne is Stubborn, Conversations, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd-centric, Latino Jason Todd, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romani Dick Grayson, Trauma, retraumatization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-28 14:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: Retraumatization is a conscious or unconscious reminder of past trauma that results in a re-experiencing of the initial trauma event. It can be triggered by a situation, an attitude or expression, or by certain environments that replicate the dynamics (loss of power/control/safety) of the original trauma. Being forced to talk about your trauma before you're mentally ready to do so can also be a trigger.Jason agrees to talk to Bruce about the circumstances of his death and resurrection in Batman and Red Hood #20, at serious detriment to himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing as how the entire Batfamily are pros of repressing instead of dealing with their trauma, and Jason especially has never been given an opportunity to actually process his traumas, this seemed like an excellent concept to explore.

It takes Jason far too long to actually notice what's going on.

Really, he probably should have guessed the moment they stepped foot in this country. 

In his defense, this is probably the last thing he would have ever imagined anyone from his supposed family doing to him. But maybe he should have relied more on his previous experiences with 'family', and thought twice. 

"You lied to me," is what he winds up saying out loud, trying not to wince at the dull broken tone of his own voice. "This wasn't about tracking down those mercenaries. You wanted to bring me  _here_ , to the worst place in the world..." Jason can't deny the way his voice cracks on those last words, as he scrubs his hand over his face and sucks in a deep breath to try and steady himself. "And here I was beginning to trust all your crap about trust and faith." 

Bruce doesn't even look at him. Doesn't even do him the courtesy of looking him in the face while he asks Jason to do this. "Those killers were the mission, but this was... something else." 

Jason always has been the 'something else' in this family. 

"Something I couldn't ignore," Bruce continues, oblivious or willfully ignorant of Jason's inner turmoil. "I thought bringing you here could jog your memory, maybe retrieve a detail buried deep in your subconsciousness that could help piece together how you came back to life, so I--" 

"Could apply it to getting Damian back," Jason finishes. "Yeah. I get it." 

He pauses, trying to breathe and not really succeeding. Drags a hand through his hair to try and get rid of the phantom feeling of fingers tightening in the strands. "Did it ever occur to you I might like keeping whatever the hell happened to me buried deep?" 

He doesn't give Bruce the chance to reply. "Forget it." He knows Bruce doesn't care. Whether it's because Damian really means that much to him, or Jason really means that little, it doesn't matter. Bruce doesn't care, and  _fuck_ if Jason can't stop  _himself_ from caring. "What do you want from me?" 

"Being here, talking about what happened... It might trigger something." 

There's a very good reason Jason has kept his mouth well fucking shut when it comes to this topic, despite the many misconceptions numerous people seem to have about what occurred. There's approximately nothing about it that he wants to relive, or any detail about it that he'd like to trigger into reappearing. He remembers just about all of it, and if there's some detail he's suppressed that managed to be worse than the others, he doesn't want to know what it is. 

But Bruce doesn't care about that right now, and Jason is so desperate to stay in the man's good graces that he'll do it anyway. 

"Haywood brought me here. I found out she was in trouble with the Joker, and I tried to tell her that I could help. That  _we_ could help her. She brought me back here instead, and told me that it was safe. That the Joker was gone." Jason heaves in an unsteady breath, dropping shakily to sit in front of the rubble of the building that's still here for some reason. "She lied." 

Every word he says feel like it's being pried out of his chest with pliers. It hurts. He's heard a lot of shit about how talking about things makes them easier to deal with. He's pretty sure that they're all damn liars. 

"She stood in the corner," he continues unhappily, gesturing loosely to the place where it would have been. "Smoked a cigarette, and watched while the Joker beat me with that fucking crowbar. Cracked skull, shattered sternum, punctured lungs, broken arms, fingers, left big... welts, with the hooked end, in my back, dozens else. He didn't even ask anything. Didn't care. Just laughed. She didn't say a thing until he tied her up and rigged the place to explode." 

His hands are shaking. He tucks them in his lap so that Bruce can't see. Bruce already thinks so little of him that Jason can't risk that perception getting any worse. He's doing this for Bruce, for Damian, he should be strong. That's what Robin was always supposed to be, and what Jason never was. He might as well try to do  _something_ right while he can. 

"I tried, tried to help." He swallows thickly and talks quicker, in the hopes of covering up his stammer and maybe just getting this fucking process over before he starts feeling any worse. "Tried to untie her. I couldn't walk, knew I wasn't getting out, but she could have. But my fingers," a shaky laugh slips out without his permission, "were too broken. It exploded. It hurt, and I remember the fire, and her screaming, and the collapse, but I think I suffocated. All of that and the smoke is what did me in." He laughs again, can't bring himself to look in Bruce's direction. Doesn't want to think about this. Does it anyway. 

"I don't remember being dead," he admits. "I just remember going from the warehouse, the smoke, and waking up again. It was dark, and I thought I was still suffocating." His hands are clenched into fists, nails digging into the soft parts of his palms. He doesn't remember taking his gloves off. Blood starts to well up through the gaps. If Bruce notices, he doesn't say anything. "Thought maybe it was a trick, that the Joker had done it, to fuck with me." 

His shoulders raise around his ears almost defensively as he prepares to continue. "I yelled for you," he finally admits. "But no one came. I still hurt, everything... nothing was fixed. But I used my fingers anyway, broke through that bullshit expensive wood. Dirt kept falling - falling into my face. Couldn't breathe." 

He's aware of the fact that there is air on his face, that he can hear the breeze whistling through the gaps of the burnt wreckage in front of him, but his lungs struggle uselessly to fill with oxygen like they've missed the memo. He's suffocating all over again, but no, he's not. He's no stranger to panic attacks. He counts his breaths as carefully as he can, but knows that his voice has taken on a desperate edge as he tries to force words out despite not having the air to do so. Bruce doesn't say anything. Doesn't suggest that they stop, or even take a break. 

Is it fucked up for Jason to wish that he was still dead right now? Just so that he'd get more consideration than he's getting right now?

Probably. But honestly, Jason has been fucked up for a  _long_ time now. 

"Dug my way out. I don't really remember much after, it's too distant, some things stuck, but most didn't. Said I was catatonic. Up until the Pit." Sickening green, electric agony, and his own fraying sanity. He buries his face in his hands, realizes that he's smearing blood on his cheeks, can't bring himself to care. His fingers ache with phantom pains that should be years old. His head hurts. He can't breathe. What's a little blood to underline everything else? 

"Did any of that help?"

He finally risks glancing over, shifting his fingers barely enough to peek to the side and get a look at the man he's been talking to this whole time. 

Somehow he can't find himself entirely surprised to see the space beside him empty. 

Bruce hadn't even stuck around after Jason was done talking. Had taken off as soon as he'd gotten what he wanted. The laugh that punches its way out of Jason's chest sounds more like a sob. Just when he thought he couldn't get any more pathetic. 

Suddenly he's hyperventilating in earnest, desperately trying to heave air into his lungs, making terrible gasps and wheezes that echo in his ears like they haven't since he was in the coffin. Suddenly he's fifteen years old all over again, waking up six feet under and desperate for his dad to come find him and make everything better. 

But neither of Jason's dads have ever cared much for him. He's on his own just like he always has been. 

He struggles to get his legs out in front of him, ducking his head between his knees like the position might help. Some of the dizziness abates, clearing his vision enough to remind him that he's not underground, but it does little to help his breaths actually mean something again. 

He has no idea how long he's been like this before the sound of his phone ringing finally reaches his ears. His vision is too blurred and obscured with black spots to see who's calling, but no one calls Jason unless it's an emergency and they've cleared out all other options, and maybe an emergency will be something solid enough to jolt him out of his fucking pity fest in the dirt. It's not until after he's already answered the call that it occurs to him that whoever is on the line will be able to hear the fucking awful noises he's still making. 

"Jason, Bruce said you were..." There's a pause, or maybe Jason just blacks out for a bit; it really could be either at this point. "Jason? Are you okay?" Tim. It's Tim. "I'm getting your location, I'm on my way, okay? Can you hear me?" 

Jason couldn't answer if you'd paid him to do it. He chokes out something that sounds vaguely like a hysteric laugh before his muscles lock up to the point where he can't stop the phone from slipping out of his hand. 

He's only passed out from a panic attack once before, but he's well on his way right fucking now. The blood from his hand that had gotten on his face starts to feel like the blood from the worst of his head wounds back  _then_. He should never have agreed to talk about this, he can't imagine having done anything else. 

He's such a fucking joke. 

* * *

The moment he recognizes the coordinates that Jason's phone is at, he knows that he's going to be walking into a seriously bad situation. 

What the hell was Jason thinking going  _there_?

Or, more accurately, what was  _Bruce_ thinking?

Tim's not an idiot. In fact, he has a very good reputation of being the literal opposite. Even so, it wouldn't take a genius to put together what probably happened tonight. 

He just  _really_ wishes that he's wrong. 

It says a lot that Tim is almost hoping that he'll show up and find Jason injured. Physical injuries are something that Tim can deal with, he knows how to deal with that, how to help. Mental trauma is a little bit less out of his skill set, especially trauma on Jason's severity. 

But even from a distance, he can tell that his initial deduction was the right one. Jason is sitting in the dirt, knees pulled up to his chest and arms shielding himself from having to look at the building where he had died. Tim can tell that the panic attack he'd heard on the phone has abated, but Jason doesn't seem like he's doing any better. He doesn't react at all to Tim's approach (which is a  _big deal_ for Jason, for understandable reasons), and doesn't so much as flinch as Tim steps carefully in front of him and crouches down to try and figure out what's wrong. 

Tim's careful attempts to coax Jason into looking up fail, and when he finally bends down further to glance under Jason's arms and at his face, he sees Jason's eerily still face and blank half lidded eyes and knows that things are way worse than he had initially thought. 

What the fuck was Bruce  _thinking_? 

(It's easy to make excuses for the man. Jason's death had broken him, and Damian's only made the half scarred wounds worse. But in all honestly, ever since Jason came back, whenever it came to Jason Bruce has made one bad call after another. Tim never thought the man would let it get this bad. He should have known better.) 

(After all, that's Tim's job. He's not the Robin Bruce chose, he's the one that forced his way onto the team for the express reason of holding Bruce together and keeping those bad calls from happening. Not even the adoption had changed that. Tim  _should have known better_.) 

"It'll be okay," Tim lies, sitting down next to Jason properly, to at least try to let the older man know that he's not alone while Tim tries to come up with a plan. He doesn't know how responsive Jason will be if Tim tries to get him to stand up, and he also doesn't know how he'll react to being manhandled; trying to wait it out might be the best course of action, at least for now. "We'll figure something out." 

The next time Bruce sees Tim, he had better be ready, because Tim is  _not_ going to let this slide. 

Enough is enough. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll be real, this was meant to be a one-shot, but enough people (which is to say, 1+) expressed interest in a follow-up that i figured why not!

It takes Jason three days to wake up.

The entire time, Tim feels enormously out of his element and completely unwilling to contact anyone else for help. He and Jason aren't exactly close, but they've been getting along better recently, and Tim feels pretty certain that the older man wouldn't appreciate a growing number of people watching him while he's like this. He'll probably be upset enough to know that Tim was there, he doesn't need to have insult added to injury by waking up surrounded by an even bigger group. 

So Tim struggles along on his own, and decides that if it lasts longer than five days, he'll contact Barbara for help. 

In the mean time, he rents out a hotel room in cash so that it will be harder for the others to find them. He doesn't know if anyone else was privy to Bruce's little plan, but he doesn't want anyone (Bruce especially) barging in on them. It's not a great place, but it has a couch and a bed and a kitchenette and really, that's all Tim needs. Jason doesn't do much, just goes where Tim leads him and eats or drinks when Tim puts something in front of him. Sometimes it takes him a while to get started, like he's forgotten how or doesn't realize that there's food there, but once he starts he finishes on his own. Other than that, he spends most of his time in the bed, buried under as many blankets as Tim can scrounge up because the man won't stop shivering. 

Tim doesn't know if he's actually helping at all, but at least for now he can make sure that Jason doesn't starve or dehydrate to death while Tim tries to figure out what the hell they're going to do. 

And then on day three, Tim comes back from pestering the front desk about getting more blankets to find Jason peering out from under the ludicrous pile of blankets. 

Jason's been drifting between awake and asleep, but his eyes haven't been tracking things at all. But now he watches almost warily as Tim gets closer, curling deeper into the blankets. 

"Jason?" Tim asks cautiously, to make sure. 

"What?" Jason snaps back, voice defensive but scratchy from disuse. Tim expects him to try to get up, but he doesn't. He just lays there, dragging the blankets tighter around him and shivering harder than he has been since they'd gotten here. 

"Nothing," Tim says, feeling even further out of his element than he already had been. He walks close enough to pile the newly acquired blankets on top of the preexisting mound, and then quickly retreats to the chair next to the bed where Jason can see him properly. "Are you okay?"

Jason lowers his gaze from Tim's face long enough to readjust to the additional fabric, trying to find a position where he's less cold. "How long?" he asks eventually, eyes flicking back to Tim's and then away just as quickly. 

"Three days," Tim answers, pulling his knees up to his chest in the chair and trying to figure out what to do now. Jason doesn't seem surprised, which makes Tim wonder if this is a more frequent occurance than anyone else knows. Despite that, he keeps glancing around the room and staring at the door, looking almost anxious, which is an improvement on the past few days but still completely unnerving in a way that Tim can't really explain. "Bruce doesn't know where we are." 

That catches Jason's attention. He finally looks back up at Tim, and seems completely bewildered at the courtesy. The protection. It makes something twist painfully in Tim's chest. 

"Why?" he asks eventually. 

"Because he was out of line," Tim answers immediately. "Regardless of what happened to- to Damian," and isn't  _that_ still an open wound, "he had no right to pull that shit. He should know better. It wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry he did that to you." 

If the fact that Tim had kept his presence a secret had confused Jason, the fact that Tim is on his side seems to leave him completely flummoxed. Tim wonders when things got so bad between all of them that Jason felt like he couldn't expect even common courtesy from his old family. 

Even Tim, who tends to get shunted to the side and deemed capable of taking care of himself (even on the occasions when he is not), knows he can count on that. 

None of this is fair, to say the least. 

"We haven't gone far, because I wasn't sure how traveling would affect you," Tim continues brusquely, not sure if he wants to keep lingering on those thoughts right this moment. "I also wasn't sure where you wanted to go. If you wanted to go back to Gotham or not. As far as I know, Bruce hasn't gone back yet, but it's still up to you. I still have the room rented for another two days, and I have enough cash left to keep it for a few days after that, so we have time to decide." 

Jason is quiet for a while, and Tim stays quiet to let him process it all. Picks absently at his lip until it starts to bleed. 

"We?" Jason finally asks. 

Tim flushes. "Well, I mean, I'll leave if you want me to. But," he spares a thought to whether or not Jason will interpret this as something offensive or pitying, but decides that the man deserves some flat faced honesty for once, "I'd prefer to stay. You deserve to have someone on your side, I think." 

Jason stares openly, and Tim meets his eyes steadily. 

"Whatever," Jason eventually grumbles out, curling in on himself impossibly further beneath the blankets. He doesn't seem like he's warming up at all, and Tim doesn't know if he should be concerned about that or not. He has no idea what's normal for Jason and what isn't, and that fact digs at him. Tim can list everyone else's allergies and potential health risks at the drop of a hat, but the only things he really knows about Jason is what little he's been able to glean from the files he used to hack into before Jason had ever been back. 

He wants the chance to rectify that.

Before he gets the chance to say anything else, Jason hisses in a breath of pain, and Tim feels anxiety surge in his chest because  _what if Jason has been hurt this whole time and Tim didn't know_ , but Tim doesn't even get the chance to move before Jason is pulling his hand free of the blankets to look at the bleeding section of skin around his nails where he's stripped it down by scraping at it. The sight of it reminds Tim to quit picking at his lip before he makes himself bleed again. 

"What about the others?" Jason asks, glaring at Tim like he expects him to say something, but it's not like  _he's_ in any position to talk. 

Tim shrugs, "I haven't spoken to them yet, because I didn't know if you'd want me to. But I've been planning for it, if you did." Jason flinches almost imperceptibly. "They're going to agree with me. I don't think they're going to side with Bruce on this." 

"And what if they do?" Jason says it like a challenge. For him, it probably is, but Tim doesn't think he has to change his answer to pass it. 

"Then fuck them," he says easily. "Regardless of whether you want me to stick around after, I don't think I'd go back if they did. At least, not for any longer than it would take for me to yell at them for it." He meets Jason's eyes again, "I was serious about what I said. It wasn't okay, it wouldn't be okay regardless of what you have or haven't done." 

Jason huffs out a reluctant laugh, doesn't seem to be able to tell if he actually believes Tim or not, but either way it's okay. 

Tim is planning on sticking around long enough to  _prove_ it, this time. 

* * *

Jason isn't sure if he actually buys the helpful act that the Replacement is putting on, but he doesn't think there's much harm in letting the kid stick around. 

Frankly, he's not sure that anyone could deal any more damage to him at this point. 

Because Jason  _had_ been getting used to playing nice with others again. He was adjusting to the fact that he'd had backup he could call on, and that he had a burgeoning place in the family that he'd used to have, before everything had gone to shit. He should have known better. 

He's not sure if he's going to be able to get that sense of trust back again. 

He's cold like he hasn't been in years, can't shake the feeling like he's not  _really_ occupying his body (which has  _already_ gotten to the point where he's started shredding his skin in a vague attempt to prove that he still exists in some physical sense. Pain really seems to be the only constant in Jason's life, it's something he can count on), and knows that if he's going to recover from this, it's going to take a hell of a long time. 

Because Jason is used to getting triggered, he's used to little things building up until he can't breathe without hearing the Joker's laugh in his ears and he's used to sometimes getting lost in the events that still actively haunt him in his daily life. But it's the first time in a  _long time_ that someone has pushed those buttons deliberately, since someone specifically asked Jason to lose himself in those memories and offered no stability or anchor to keep him from losing touch completely. 

Tim summed it up pretty succinctly; it's Bullshit. 

He's not sure if he really trusts the kid, but he's too tired to think clearly, and right now he knows two things. One, Tim apparently hasn't told the old man where they are, and two, Jason isn't starving. There's not the usual ache in his stomach that tells him how long it's been since he was able to feed himself, and his extremities haven't swollen with dehydration. So Tim has been taking care of him, for at least a day, if not the entire time. 

It's more than someone has given Jason in a long time. 

So, maybe this will backfire on him again. Maybe Tim will just be one of many to pull the rug out from under Jason and leave him worse off than he had been (although, if Jason is being honest, with the shit he'd pulled after his dip in the Pit, Tim at least would have the justification for doing so), and maybe he's just waiting until Jason has let his guard down to drag him back to Arkham. Who knows. It's a toss up. When it comes to Jason's trust, most things are. 

But, at least for now, he thinks he might buy the act enough to let himself pause to pull himself together. Sleep some more, try to warm up, make sure he doesn't slip back into the haze of dissociation, try to keep from completely wrecking his hands again. 

He doubts this quiet calm is going to last much longer, whether it's someone else or Jason himself that winds up shattering it, it'll happen sooner rather than later. 

For now, though, he thinks he'll let himself enjoy it while it lasts. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dick isn't sure how things got this bad. 

To say that no one was really taking Damian's death  _well_ would be an understatement, and the fact that both Tim and Jason had dropped off the grid in Ethiopia had made everything seem five times worse. Bruce had been spotty in his communication, and Dick had been one more missed phone call from getting on a plane his own damn self to go over there to find all three of them. 

And then Tim and Jason show up on his doorstep, looking like shit and with one hell of a story to tell. 

Or, more accurately,  _Jason_ looked like shit and  _Tim_ had one hell of a story to tell. Tim looked about as put together as he usually is, and Jason still hasn't said a word since he walked through the door. 

He doesn't even protest Dick hugging him after Tim explained what had happened, and that more than anything gives Dick a good understanding of what kind of state Jason is in. 

Dick hasn't been this pissed at Bruce in a long time. 

Because here's the thing, Dick had always gotten the impression that Bruce was at least  _trying_ to be a good dad. It was rare that he actually seemed to be good at it, but emotionally-stunted conversations and possible child-endangerment charges aside, he tried. He'd helped Dick finish learning English, taught him how to smooth over the fractures in his grammar and pronunciation. He used to sit down with Jason to work with him on his social studies homework, explaining what was happening in Spanish if he had to. 

And yeah, Jason's death had messed things up, but he'd pulled his shit together, hadn't he? He'd stepped up to the plate after Tim's parents had died, had the darkroom built and actually spent time learning what to do so that he could help when Tim wanted him to. He spent hours in the Cave with Damian, painstakingly reteaching the kid how to fight without using lethal force so that he could go out on patrols like he wanted to. 

But this? This is the exact opposite of trying to be anything close to good dad. What the fuck had Bruce been  _thinking_?

"God, little wing, I'm sorry," Dick murmurs, still blatantly clinging to Jason since his younger brother still hasn't pushed him off yet. At this point, Dick can't tell if the comforting gesture is doing as much for Jason as it's doing for him, but it's somewhere to start at least. Dick's definitely going to tear into Bruce later, but for now, Jason takes the priority. 

Because Dick doesn't think he's ever really seen Jason like this before, and it's making him nervous.

Dick is used to seeing Jason angry, and even on some rarer occasions, relaxed. But this isn't either, or anything else, really. He just looks... blank. He's staying slumped over in Dick's grip, where he'd landed when the older had forcibly dragged him into a hug, shivering slightly. He doesn't seem like he's listening to what Dick or Tim has been saying, just keeps looking out at some middle distance and flinching only occasionally when someone speaks too sharply. Apart from the fact that his eyes are open, the only indication that he's actually conscious is the way he keeps scratching at an already raw looking scar on his neck. 

An eerily _familiar_ scar on his neck. 

"Is that... from a Batarang?" Dick asks, before his mouth double checks with his brain to determine if this is a  _good_ question to ask. 

There's potential for it to be a not-horrible question. After all, it's rare that Batman or Robin will double back after a fight to make sure that all of the weaponry tossed around has been picked up. It hasn't been unheard of for people to find stray Batarangs and use or re-purpose them, or even just use them for weird and sharp decorations. Dick has had one or two thrown at him on the streets on occasion. But there's something about the way that Jason touches it that makes Dick think that it's not going to be that simple.

Jason freezes when Dick speaks, his nails frozen in place to leave red crescent shaped indents in the skin over the scar. Then after a moment, he laughs. 

Dick likes Jason's laugh. When Jason laughs for real, it's a bright and loud sound that leaves him almost breathless with the force of it. It's contagious, almost impossible to stay straight-faced when you hear it. It makes him sound like the nineteen year old he actually is. 

This is not Jason's real laugh. 

It's a broken and ragged noise that could almost pass for something more akin to a sob. Jason's genuine laugh makes Dick smile, the noise he's making now breaks Dick's fucking heart. 

The smile on his face is something bitter and agonized as he shrugs and says, "Bruce." 

Dick's lungs stutter in his chest. His arm around Jason's shoulder tightens. 

What the hell has Bruce done? 

* * *

Jason is not having a great week. 

It starts with losing three entire fucking days. Yeah he's used to it, but that doesn't mean that it's making his week any better. Then come the nightmares, and the flashbacks. Jason not-so-subtly has to hand over all of his weapons to Tim to make sure that he doesn't accidentally shoot the kid as he's waking up. When he has bad weeks at his safe houses, he keeps the guns because he lives alone and in the part of town where people don't pause to question gunshots going off in the middle of the night, and because they help bring him down from the peak of panic, the reassurance that he can protect himself if he has to. But when he's sharing a living space with a kid that he's already shot once before, he'll have to trade in the small comfort. This decision is followed by Tim not-so-subtly putting one of Jason's knives back on the bedside table. Jason doesn't say anything about it, but that doesn't mean he's not grateful for it. His throat still feels like he's been gargling glass in his sleep from all the screaming, but at least the panic attacks when he wakes up don't last nearly as long. 

Then there's the anxiety. The sudden increase in paranoia and nervousness that doesn't stop constantly telling Jason how much danger he's in at any given moment. The inherent knowledge that Out There could never be as safe as In Here, and that In Here isn't necessarily all that safe either. He alternates between tucking himself away under the enormous pile of blankets Tim managed to gather and pacing around the edges of the room, unable to sit still and desperately trying to convince himself that the room is secure. 

The flight back to the States nearly fucking kills him. There are small mercies in the fact that the Wayne's have a private plane that Tim is capable of flying, but Jason spends the entire 17 hour flight on the verge of hyperventilation as he fights back the walls of his coffin closing in on him. When he was growing up, he'd never understood why some characters in books would 'kiss the ground'. He finally understands the sentiment. By the time they find a safe house to stay for the night, all of Jason's exposed skin has been scratched raw and, in some places, bleeding. 

It's great! He's having a great time. 

Listening to Tim talk to the other Bat-Kids is just as fun. 

They start with Babs because she's the easiest to get in contact with while they're still in Ethiopia. She's also the only one capable of covering up their tracks to make sure they stay hidden from Bruce, just in case the impulse strikes and the man decides to try to come after them. Once they land in Gotham, they move onto Dick, since Jason still refuses to go anywhere near the manor. 

If he's being honest, he still doesn't understand the point of trying to talk to the others about what happened. It won't make a difference. People tolerate Jason, they don't like him, and he certainly hasn't done anything in the past few years to change that perception. He'd nuked his bridges pretty fucking well after rising from the grave. He doesn't expect them to be capable of being rebuilt. 

It's also not like this is the first time Bruce has pulled this shit. Nothing changed after  _that_. What could possibly turn out different now? 

By the time Dick notices the scar, and asks about it (actually goes so far as to recognize it and eliminate all possibilities of Jason lying about it), it's really almost just funny, how shitty Jason's luck is. How bad things could get. 

He almost wonders if it's even possible to go any more downhill, but he's not about to voice that thought, lest the universe hear him and try to take him up on that challenge. 

Because now he gets to tell his second-to-least favorite story in the fucking world. 

Trauma! The gift that keeps on giving!!

"Bruce," he says finally, because he might as well, honestly. Maybe Tim's right, maybe it will make a difference. Or maybe it'll just show them how shitty Jason really is, and how he deserves the shit that Bruce keeps tossing his way, and they'll give up on this little crusade of their's. Either way, it's almost a win. "I was still kinda Pit-Crazy, gave him a choice. Joker or me. He made  _his_ decision pretty quick." He makes the sound-effect of something being sliced open out of the side of his mouth, tracing the neat line of the injury with his thumb. "Batarang right in the throat." 

He shrugs. He'd  _hoped_ for a hell of a lot more, but hadn't really  _expected_ anything else. 

But when he looks up into twin faces of abject horror, he doesn't get that same feeling. Instead of rejection and bitter acceptance, he's surprised by the feeling of something tentatively trusting, that someone could be as upset with the outcome as he had been. 

Neither of them have spoken, but Jason already feels warmer than he has in days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is shit with words, so I think he shows he cares primarily with actions, doing things for other people. Unfortunately, that means that when he does shit-stupid things to them, it hurts twice as much. 
> 
> Also I'm not entirely sure _what_ Bruce does with Jason after that Incident in Under the Red Hood, but the fact that Jason doesn't wind up incarcerated or even back at the manor after it speaks to the probability of Bruce just... leaving him there. And this angst-machine of a fic went with that.  >:3c
> 
> I also wrote an [entire post](http://princex-n.tumblr.com/post/177286695278/robin-language-headcanons) about the Robin's and their languages, if you're curious (since I mentioned a bit of it in this chapter).


	4. Chapter 4

It's not something that Tim would ever admit, but it would be a lie to say that -when Tim had first started working with Bruce- he had never once imagined what it would be like if Jason had somehow managed to come back. 

The way Tim imagined it was always more a case of a mistakenly identified body or more elaborate Joker shenanigans, rather than a literal case of Jason being brought back to life from the dead. He used to dream about returning the Robin mantel to his hero, Bruce being able to be  _happy_  again (and being able to see Tim without the shadow of Jason's death hanging over both of them), Tim being able to train under Jason until he was good enough to create his  _own_  identity and work alongside Batman and Robin, just like he had grown up dreaming about. 

Not in even the wildest scenarios did Tim ever imagine that he'd be part of an intervention designed to try to force Bruce to understand the consequences of the godawful way he'd been treating his risen-again son ever since his return. 

Needless to say, it's been a bit of a left-field situation. (Although, nothing has really worked out the way Tim imagined it; what with Jason being bitter and enraged, Bruce being cruel and cold, and Tim being somewhat caught in the crossfire. Maybe he should have been able to see this one coming a little sooner than he had)

The current plan isn't foolproof, but it is the best they have. Tim and Dick are the ones that are going to take charge in confronting Bruce, Jason is going to be out of the spotlight but still present to interject where he wants to (he's been doing slightly better since they met up with Dick, but he's still quieter and more still than Tim has ever seen him), and Barbara is sticking to the background to set up a hasty escape in the high probability that one becomes necessary. 

"This was a bad idea," Jason states, one of the only thing he's said since they'd shown up at the manor. A phrase that he'd seen fit to repeat about nine or ten times since he'd sprawled across the couch in the back of Tim's room. 

"You attract the energy you put into the world, Jason. Quit being such a downer," Dick scolds, which are bold words coming from the man who hasn't stopped pacing since they settled down to wait for Bruce to show up. 

Tim considers opening his mouth to stop them before they get geared up for an actual argument, but is interrupted when Bruce comes barreling through the door and destroys what little dredges of humor had managed to emerge in his absence. 

Typical Batman. 

"Tim, what's wro-," Bruce breaks off suddenly, body going tense as he recognizes the room's other occupants, specifically, the one on Tim's couch. "Jason," he says stiffly. "What are you doing here?" 

"We're all here to have a conversation," Tim says forcefully, well-versed in the process of making Bruce listen to him. It'd been the entirety of his purpose as Robin, after all. "And you're going to close the door and listen." 

Bruce scoffs slightly. "I don't have time to-." 

"You're going to  _close the door_  and  _sit_ ," Tim reiterates, pointing to both the open doorway Bruce is still standing in and the open chair that has been left specifically for him to occupy. It's been a while since Tim has actually had to play the role of the responsible adult in this relationship, but that doesn't mean he's in any way out of practice. 

Bruce is stubborn and an asshole, but to his credit, he does sit. "We're going to make this quick, because I have things to do," he says as he does, but the important thing is that he  _is_  sitting, which is more than Tim used to get when he'd first started. 

"We're here to talk about how you treat Jason," Tim says, and is adequately prepared to step in the way of Bruce's sudden glare that makes Jason flinch backwards. He just sort of wishes it hadn't been necessary. 

(Part of him had hoped that they would start this, and Bruce would immediately back down and apologize, because he'd already know that he was in the wrong. But as soon as Jason had opened up about the scar on his neck, Tim had known it wouldn't be possible.) 

(That doesn't mean it was wrong of him to  _hope_ )

-

Bruce had known that any cause that could get two or more of his sons to work together would be one that he wouldn't necessarily like. 

Still, he hadn't expected it to be about Jason. 

Definitely hadn't expected it to be about  _him_ and Jason.

There are a lot of opinions about Jason that bounce around Gotham. The police's opinion that he's another crime lord that needs to be stopped, the criminals' opinions that he's a violent killer that should be feared but displaced as soon as viable, the public's opinion that he's more efficient than Batman himself. Bruce's own opinion that he is a potential threat that should be heavily monitored, but not necessarily interfered with (it's stupid. Sentimental and  _stupid_ , and every death that Jason is responsible for is just another on Bruce's own head as long as he allows his own feelings to get in the way of doing what needs to be done, but he just... can't.) 

He had thought that he had known the Robins' opinions on him as well. 

Apparently Bruce had been wrong about that, as well. 

"What about it?" he asks, tearing his gaze away from where Jason is hidden behind Tim and letting it settle on Dick, who is standing where he had frozen, entire body radiating defensiveness and upset. 

"About Ethiopia. About Arkham, and the Joker, and the batarang, and really just about  _everything_ we've done when it comes to Jason," Dick says. The heat of anger in Bruce's chest that surges at the mention of the Joker promptly goes cold at the subject of the Batarang, about what happened that night. About what Bruce had done, and hadn't done. 

He tries to keep the nausea from showing on his face, and grits his teeth instead. "Alright," he says, trying to keep the growl out of his voice, but isn't sure if he's actually succeeding. There are a lot of things that Bruce doesn't appreciate talking about, and his own failures are one of them (especially his _biggest_ ), but he knows if he doesn't tread at least somewhat carefully, he'll wind up losing his last two sons. "Then let's talk." 

"Well let's figure out where we need to start," Tim says, and pointedly doesn't move from his position between Jason and Bruce. "Do you  _get_ that how you've been treating Jason is messed up?" 

"You mean the way I've been treating a criminal in my city?" Bruce asks, gaze unwavering as he looks between his sons. "If he's going to act as bad as them, I'm going to treat him as badly." 

Dick seems almost prepared for this argument. "Except you're not treating Jason like 'just another criminal in Gotham'," he protests, stepping closer before halting again. Bruce would almost wonder what Jason has been telling them, if it weren't for the fact that this is how Dick acts during nearly every argument he has with Bruce. "Let's start with the Batarang, yeah? Just to get  _that_ little indiscretion out of the way. Should we talk about how you don't let  _anyone_ out with any number of Batarangs until they're completely trained to avoid all arteries and potentially deadly hits? About how I've seen you navigate more than a dozen hostage situations with the Joker, with others, without ever  _once_ having to aim for their  _throats?_ What about how you're usually very quick in treating the potentially life-threatening wounds before you leave people to be arrested, even if you weren't the one to cause the injury? Would you like to explain all of that?" 

There is a very, very small voice in the back of Bruce's head that whispers that Dick is right, but by now it's easy to smother. 

"Are  _you_ just going to ignore how many people Jason has killed?" Bruce snarls, gesturing to the man in question, despite the fact that he's still blocked from view. 

"Then let's discuss punishment," Tim steps in smoothly. "Let's talk about your insistence that criminals, no matter  _how_ bad, have the potential to be rehabilitated. Have the potential for a second chance. Please explain to me what part of slitting someone's throat aligns with these ideals. Please explain to me the thought processes that manage to align advocating recovery with deliberately aggravating a person's mental illness in order to get answers that you want. What about something easier? How are you able to maintain an almost friendly relationship with Harvey Dent and Harley Quinn despite their actions, but are completely unable to extend Jason,  _your son_ , the same courtesy?" 

"Harley is mentally ill, and-," 

"And you think Jason  _isn't_?" Tim interrupts, sounding incredulous. "How could you think for even a second that Jason's history isn't a major precursor for mental illness? It's  _filled_ with red flags. Abusive father, neglectful mother, surrounded by criminals, forced to support himself alone on the streets for years, tortured for hours before dying a violent death, waking up in his own coffin and having to  _dig himself out of it_ , how is someone  _supposed_ to process those events? We're talking about trauma and physical brain damage that caused  _two years_ of catatonia, that was only halted by the intervention of the Lazarus Pit, which introduces an entirely  _new_ trigger of Pit Madness, which is a thoroughly documented and studied phenomenon. Not to mention the fact that he spent  _years_ with the League of Assassins. You're willing to extend Damian understanding with regards to his trauma and behaviors caused by the League, but not Jason?" 

The mention of Damian in this context nearly makes Bruce snarl. Claiming to not have known what happened to Jason would have the potential for bringing a clean end to this confrontation, but because of the recent trip to Ethiopia, Bruce doesn't have that out. 

The boys don't seem to have any intention of allowing Bruce to intervene anyway. 

"Let's talk about treatment, while we're at it," Dick says. "And I'll admit, this one is mostly on me. I'm the one that made this call, but let's also not pretend like you hadn't had the option or plan in place to begin with. Putting Jason in Arkham was possibly the  _stupidest_ thing we could have done." 

Bruce makes a solid attempt to speak up at this, but is solidly shut down by both Dick and Tim gesturing for him to remain silent. 

"The criminals in Arkham aren't idiots, and they certainly aren't ignorant. Did you really think that  _none_ of them would be able to put together the fact that Jason was the second Robin? One of the ones responsible for a  _very good number_ of them being incarcerated in the first place? And even if they  _couldn't_ , did you really think that the Joker wouldn't be the first to tell them?" 

This is enough to make Bruce hesitate. Slightly. 

"Did you- did  _we,_ even think about the danger we were putting him in? Not to mention the fact that we gave Arkham his  _file_. _Our_ file. Did we stop to think about what that information could be used for in there? About corrupt psychologists, about orderlies on payrolls, about Harley and the Joker? Of  _course_ we didn't! What about this; did we ever stop to think about what it would be like to be trapped in the same building as your  _murderer?"_

There is a small sound that Bruce belatedly identifies as a laugh, coming from the previously silent fourth person in the room. "Same building? Try five doors down," Jason says, voice bitter but too worn out to be angry. 

Dick falters and swallows thickly; apparently he hadn't been previously privy to that fact either. 

"Trapped five doors down from your murderer?" he amends, sounding almost as tired as Jason had. "Here's a hint: We didn't." 

Bruce wants to hold onto the burn of anger that settles in his chest at the mere mention of Jason these days, but the longer this conversation goes on, the harder it is to cling to. It's becoming startlingly clear why they chose to force him to listen; they're  _right_. There has been a lot Bruce hadn't thought about or thought to  _ask_ about when it came to Jason. 

At the same time, "That doesn't change the fact that he's a criminal." 

Dick laughs, but it sounds more disbelieving than humorous. " _We're_ criminals, Bruce! Vigilantism is just as illegal as murder is! And even if you want to argue that it isn't as bad, I've killed people, Damian killed people,  _Gordon_ has killed people. Maybe not as many, and maybe not in the same way, but if you're really going to try to say that murder is where you absolutely cross the line, you're still contradicting yourself! Why are you so insistent on not seeing what you're  _doing_?" 

"There are-," before he gets the chance to finish, he's interrupted again.

"Told you this was a waste of time," Jason says, rising off of the couch and finally stepping into Bruce's field of vision. To say that he looks tired is an understatement, his eyes are rimmed with red and there's a smear of blood near the corner of his mouth from where his lip has been torn. He picks at the wound once more before dropping his hand and stuffing it into his jacket pocket, but Bruce doesn't miss the shredded skin of his fingers. (Doesn't miss that it's the exact same thing Jason used to do when he was stressed, before.) "I've got to get out of here."

Tim takes a step towards him, seeming to either agree or be willing to cut his part in the conversation short to follow Jason (which is a surprise in and of itself; it can be a hassle to get Tim to stop long enough to eat when he's working on even small projects. That he would be willing to just  _stop_ completely because Jason wants to is probably something that Bruce should take a cue from.) 

Bruce isn't willing to give it up that easily. 

"Explain the Joker to me," he demands. "Why are you so  _insistent_ on trying to get me to compromise on my morals? What do you think that will prove?" 

Jason hesitates in the doorway, and for a moment, Bruce thinks that he will just keep walking and refuse to answer. To his surprise, Jason turns to face him instead. "It wasn't about proving a  _point_ ," he says. It's difficult to get a read on his expression, which isn't a surprise; he was so much easier to read  _before_ he had come back. "It was... It should have been done, it  _still has_ to be done, but... I couldn't do it myself." He gestures almost helplessly as he speaks. "I just wanted to feel s-," he breaks off, shakes his head, and walks out the door. 

Bruce has the unsettling suspicion that Jason had been about to say "Safe".

Tim and Dick linger only long enough to give Bruce a look that can only be described as "deep disappointment" before following Jason out the door, closing it behind them with a thud that reverberates in the sudden silence of the room. 

Bruce considers going after them to force elaboration, but doesn't. He feels, almost wrong-footed. Possibly almost convicted. 

He wonders if he hasn't just ultimately lost all of his sons once and for all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Bruce make an effort to change his behavior and apologize after this? Or does he stay staunch in his attitude and refuse out of willful ignorance and stubbornness? It's up to you!! This fic is actually complete this time, but if you like my writing, keep an eye out for other DCU fics i'm planning on putting out sometime soon!

**Author's Note:**

> jason's entire life is kind of the "man who thought he'd lost all hope loses last additional bit of hope he didn't even know he still had" meme
> 
> Also imo tim and jason can have a fun dynamic of being the more 'neglected' kids in the family
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](http://www.princex-n.tumblr.com)


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